


remedy

by sunshine_captain



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: First Time, Five Year Mission, Fluff, Getting Together, Injured!Kirk, M/M, Mother Hen Spock, Protective Spock (Star Trek), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 12:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshine_captain/pseuds/sunshine_captain
Summary: The great captain Kirk, felled by a tree root. It'd be funny if it wasn't so pathetic.





	remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Started this several YEARS ago when my foot got run over, then it languished in my WIPs for a while. Features the ever useful "machinery malfunction for plot's sake" that TOS itself was so fond of.

The great captain Kirk, felled by a tree root. It'd be funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

Jim's ankle is swollen and throbbing, sore to the touch. He still tries gamely to walk, hobbling off the transporter platform, gritting his teeth at the flare of pain that shoots up his leg with every step.

Despite his determination to reach sickbay under his own power, his ankle gives out on him, and he topples towards the deck. Spock swoops in and grabs him, pulling him upright, taking his weight.

"Jim, are you well?"

Jim slings an arm over Spock's shoulders and tries to straighten himself. "I'm fine, Spock. Just a sprained ankle." He puts the foot in question down and grinds his teeth together in pain as soon as weight is put on it. "Mr. Spock, unfortunately, it looks like you're going to have to help me to sickbay."

"Of course, Captain," Spock says, and lifts Jim into his arms, apparently having decided it's no less dignified for the captain to be carried than to be seen hopping on one leg.

"Spock," Jim exclaims. Somehow, he didn't mean this. Logically, it makes more sense and will be far faster than Spock helping him hobble to sickbay, but it's so intimate. Spock has him cradled against his body, so much of them pressed together.

Jim's arm naturally shifts from Spock's shoulders to around his neck. It feels right, feels good.

Everything about this does. Spock holds him so securely that Jim is barely jostled as he strides quickly towards sickbay. He never realized it could feel so comforting to be held like this.

Not that there are many strong enough to hold him. Jim isn't a small man, and he's solidly built. Spock, though, is powerful, and Jim knows he can trust Spock to take his weight when necessary. He won't drop Jim or make him feel like less of a person or captain because of it.

Jim has just relaxed and very definitely not snuggled into Spock's grip when they reach sickbay.

"Here, Jim," Spock heads for the nearest biobed and sets him down gently. Then he stands at parade rest and waits.

Jim squirms and pushes himself with his hands and good foot until he's sitting on the bed with both legs stretched out on it."You can return to duty if you wish, Mr. Spock."

"I will remain here if you do not mind. You might require further assistance."

 _Further assistance._ Jim tries not to wish that were the case, that it would be necessary for Spock to carry him back to his quarters. Ridiculous.

"Damn it, Jim, what have you done to yourself now?" McCoy's exasperated voice reaches them before the man himself does. "I ought to lock you in your quarters. Every time you get out of my sight, you get hurt!"

"On the bright side, Bones, my uniform is intact this time," Jim says as he raises the leg with the injured foot slightly.

McCoy's gaze travels downwards and his scowl intensifies.

"The captain is correct in his assertion. His shirt was not damaged." Spock reaches casually for Jim's leg and unzips his boot, slipping it off and stepping with it back out of the way.

It's done so quickly and with such care that Jim is left blinking down at his socked foot, then turns to stare at Spock, holding the boot. His first officer raises a brow at him.

McCoy apparently doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary. He's too busy scanning Jim with his medical tricorder.

"Yeah, Jim, it's well and properly sprained," he says finally, putting the instrument away. "Ordinarily I'd just take you over to my big dermal regenerator, have you fixed up in ten minutes, but, well." He shakes his head. "That last firefight with the Klingons shook my sickbay up so bad the damn thing is still down."

"Have you had someone from engineering look at it?" Jim definitely doesn't like where he thinks this is going.

"Of course I have! Scotty himself took a look at the blasted thing, says there's nothing he can do until he stop at a starbase and get certain parts. No, I'm afraid it's going to be the old fashioned treatment for you."

"Which is?"

"Stay off of the foot. That means staying off duty, too, for at least, mmm. 48 hours. Apply ice to it. That's about all you can do." McCoy sees the protests forming in Jim's mind, and shakes his head sternly. "I'm not giving you a choice, Jim. I'm ordering mandatory medical leave as chief medical officer. Now, to get you back to your quarters, I've got a wheelchair around here somewhere."

"That will not be necessary, Doctor," Spock says smoothly, stepping forward. "We have concluded our business with this planet, and will be heading for the nearest starbase while we await further orders from Starfleet. I believe it will take slightly more than 48 hours for a transmission from San Francisco to reach us at our current location. Therefore l will provide the captain with any assistance he needs."

Bones wheels on Spock and crosses his arms. ""Slightly more"?" Getting as imprecise as a human, aren't you?"

"51.43, Doctor. I believed it would be simpler for your illogical mind to process an approximation rather than the true number."

"Why, you damned fool Vulcan!"

"Enough," Jim snaps. "I don't need a wheel chair or to be carried. And I don't need to be off duty for two days. Don't you have some crutches or something? "

"I wish we did," McCoy says, looking contrite. "Fraid not, Jim. It's the wheelchair or letting Spock help you. And you _do_ need to rest for two days. Don't make me use my authority as CMO to force you."

"I will assist you back to your quarters, Jim." Spock hands Jim the boot he's still holding, and then before it can be put back on, he's lifted Jim from the table.

Once again, he finds himself cradled against Spock's chest, in his arms. It's almost obnoxious, how easy it clearly is for Spock to lift him. There's no sign of strain in his body or expression as he nods at McCoy and heads for the door. 

Jim sighs and resigns himself once more to being carried through his ship. As they walk through the corridors, he realizes that although they get a few stares, most crewmen seem to not find it that unusual that their captain is being carried by his first officer.

After all, they've seen Jim carry Spock on missions before.

Granted, though, that on those occasions Spock was unconscious and not snuggled into Jim's arms like Jim currently is Spock's, one arm around his neck, cheek resting against his shoulder. 

Plus, Jim carries Spock over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, not cradled like something delicate in his arms.

They reach Jim's quarters, and Spock keys in the access code without pause, taking Jim straight to the table where he pulls a chair out with his foot and gently settles Jim into it.

"Thank you, Spock." Jim smiles at him, dropping the boot he’s still holding to the ground. "I do appreciate it, though I assure you that it wasn't necessary."

"I considered it necessary," Spock responds, before producing a Med Wrap and bending it in half, activating the cooling effect, and kneeling down to wrap it around Jim's ankle.

Spock's hands are so gentle that there's no pain at all as he touches Jim's swollen and sore injury, fingertips ghosting over the skin just under his pants leg, a little higher than necessary, _after_ the wrap is in place. Then over the top of his foot. Deliberate touches.

Even though he's witnessed first hand how much stronger than himself Spock is, it's hard to believe when he treats Jim like this. Like he's something important. Precious.

Spock is still kneeling at his feet, hands settled loosely in his lap. He's looking up at Jim, silently.

"Spock." His voice is hushed, because the situation seems to call for it. Spock has always treated him like that, when he thinks about it.

All of his dear friend's gentleness and warmth have always been offered to him. All of Spock's softness, aimed at him in Spock's glances and little smiles. In his attempt on shore leave to cook Jim a real dinner, and the evening he brought his lyre to their chess game and when it was over, played it so beautifully Jim was speechless.

All along, and only now does he see. Spock has been reaching out to him for so long. Years.

Jim reaches back. He curves a hand around Spock's shoulder, offers two fingers of his other hand to Spock in the space between them.

Spock meets them with his own, a small but genuine smile his response.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner what you were offering me," Jim says apologetically, rubbing their fingertips together briefly before settling back in the chair.

"It is well. I am simply glad that you did see, and that my regard is returned."

Jim hastens to reassure him, "Oh, it is," and then surprises himself with a huge yawn. He hadn't even realized that he was tired.

Spock doesn't hesitate before rising and gathering Jim back into his arms, taking him the short distance through Jim's quarters to the bed, depositing him before stepping towards the closet.

"Don't you _dare_ , mister!" Jim barks in his Captain tone. Spock freezes in place, and he chuckles. "I'm grateful to you for everything, Spock, and happier than you can know that we feel the same, but I have to draw a line. You're not dressing me in my pajamas. "

"If you insist, but I must similarly insist that you rest, even if you choose to do so in your uniform."

"I can do that." Jim lays back and finds the energy to smile at Spock. "If you promise that when I wake up, you'll come and keep me company during my enforced bed rest."

"That is a promise I shall have no trouble keeping." Spock returns to the side of the bed and leans down enough to cover one of Jim's hands with his own for a moment that's brief but intimate. Jim wants to kiss him, desperately. If he had the energy.

Jim closes his eyes and is asleep before he knows it.

When he wakes up, Spock is seated at the table, working diligently on a padd. There's a glass of water and one of Jim's old paper books beside the bed.

Spock looks up as Jim reaches for the water, and puts his padd aside. He comes to the bed, and Jim starts to lift his hand, expecting another Vulcan kiss. Spock surprises him by bending down and kissing him on the lips.

When Spock straightens again, regarding him with naked warmth in his gaze, Jim knows Spock can probably hear his pounding heart. “How long was I asleep? Did you ever leave?”

“3 hours, and I did depart for a short time. I found that my attempt at meditation was disturbed by thoughts of you waking and attempting to maneuver yourself unaided around the room.”

So he came back, and watched over Jim as he slept. That’s so sweet, so _Spock._ “If you’re going to stay, you may as well make it for the entire duration of my enforced convalescence. I’ve got, what, 45 hours to go?”

“Indeed.”

“Plenty of time. For tonight, we’ll start with chess, and then have dinner. You’re welcome to to spend the night in here, if you’d like.” Jim hopes that that isn’t a step too far, too fast for Spock.

Evidently not. Spock nods once and steps back from the bed, regaining some distance between them, though Jim sees his hand twitch slightly like he wants to reach out and touch again. “That is agreeable, Jim, but I hope you will not be offended if I finish the article I was reading before we move on to other activities?”

“Not at all, Mr. Spock.” Jim rearranges the pillow behind him so he can sit up comfortably, reaching for the book Spock left for him. “You saw to it that I’ll be suitably occupied while you do that.”

Silence descends, and Jim settles into his book. He can’t stop his eyes from straying to Spock every now and then, just wanting to look at him with the knowledge that Spock’s affection for him is so much more than he ever dared hope.

Spock glances up at him, and their eyes lock. Jim smiles, and deliberately goes back to his reading. Spock can finish what he’s doing. Jim will be here, waiting.

There’s no rush. No emergency or desperation. Just the two of them, and hours ahead of them with nothing more required of them than not putting pressure on Jim’s foot.

Jim grins. He needs to buy Bones something nice to drink next stopover. His hard working CMO deserves it.


End file.
